Saturday, May 31, 2008
The 340 club
The 6th Day of 340
6B Phil departed the 338 in November 1983. John & Sue on 2/29/84 and Sil & I on 6/30/84 and it was all over.
The only good news is tomorrow is the 7th day of 340.
February 29, 1984
Sil & his wife met at 328 so the 340 Club is 2 for 2 on marriages!
On February 29 (does that mean they've only been gone six years), 1984 the young couple fled the 338 and made their move. That meant, for the final months, Sil & I would be the only inhabitants of the large house.
As you will note, I have almost no memory of these last four months.
Friday, May 30, 2008
The 45s
Archie Bell, Bar Kays, Barry McGuire, Beatles, Blues Brothers, Bobby Vinton, Bachman-Turner Overdrive, Buffalo Springfield, Creedence Clearwate Revival, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, Engelbert Humperdink, Four Tops, James & Bobby Purify, James Brown, John Fred & the Playboy Band, Kim Carnes, KISS, Link Wray & the Wraymen, Manfred Mann, Marvin Gaye, Napoleon XiV, Otis Redding, Percy Sledge, Queen, Rare Earth, Rolling Stones, Sam & Dave, Sam the Sham, Sly & the Family Stone, Styx, Supremes, Sweet, The: Beach Boys, Capitols, Clash, Crazy World of Arthur Brown, Doors, Human Beinz, Kinks, Magnificient Men, McCoys, Moody Blues, Righteous Brothers, Shangri- Las, Sharks, Shaynes, Toys, Troggs, Vapors, Tommy James & the Shondells, Wilson Pickett … and in reserve: Aerosmith, Alice Cooper, Bay City Rollers, Devo, Grand Funk Railroad, Heart, Janis Joplin,Led Zeppelin, Mitch Ryder & the Detroit Wheels, Mott Hoople, Paul Revere & the Raiders, Police, Rod Stewart, Swinging Medallions, The: Animals, Jackson 5, Temptations, Who, Thin Lizzie, and Young Rascals.
Next order of business: the souvenier program, PowerPoint, and preparing the Archival Exhibit. Oh yeah, getting the Bear ready. Hopefully, Phil will sell some tickets. I need to give the Knights a number on Thursday.
Mitch Ryder, Godfather of Detroit Rock
And one of his from the juke
Back in the day
Later
1983
FEB – Groundhog sees shadow
MAR –
APR – 340 Club moves to 338 West King Street; Life Goes On
MAY –
JUN – Mayor Morris visits 340 Club
JUL – Leo, Sixers, Summit Bowl, Sally Ride in space
AUG – Benigno Aquino Assasinated in Phillipines
SEP –
OCT – Birds/Phils, 237 Marines killed in Beirut, Grenada invaded
NOV – Phil departs
DEC – Times Square w 103
1983 was in the book
President Ronnie Raygunz
Governor Dick Thornburgh
Mayor Art Morris
CPI – 99.6
U.R. – 9.6%
Life exp – 74.6
Violent crime – 51.8
World Population – 4.69B
U.S. Population – 233.8M
Best Picture Oscar – Gandhi
Ted’s # 111
NCAA BK – North Carolina State 54-52 over Houston
Indy 500 –
NBA – Philadelphia Seventy-Sixers sweep LA
NHL – New York Islanders sweep Edmonton Oilers
MLB – Baltimore Orioles over Philadelphia Phillies in 5
Horse of Year –
Hvwt Champ –
NCAA F – Miami, 11-1
NFL (1/84)
Where are they now: Randy?
I don't know ... however he is scheduled to spin records at the 340 Club reunion and I have spent the day selecting 81 45 rpm records to make the trip. Lemmee tell ya they are classics. However I have no clue as to Randy's whereabouts and no solid phone number.
In typical 340 fashion this one's going right down to the wire ...
From the Mighty 340 Club Juke Box
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nql4Bk-Xp7Q
another one about the night we will hold the reunion
Collage V
Collage IV
Collage III
Collage II
"Pabst,Quality since 1844" and the SUB itself being supported by a case of John Em's Straub Beer.
The 5th Day of 340
We inked a lease, effective March 1, 1981 and automatically renewing every month, and moved in late February. We were back.
Collage # 1
Woody K. said he had some pictures of our West King Street days. Unfortunately time has not been kind to them and they seem to be permanently stuck in a photo album.
Woody then took the entire album page and scanned them and sent them to me. Here is the first exhibit.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
The 4th Day of 340
On the 4th day of the 340 Club the sun set. As Phil evacuated the 340 Club in late November 1978, I suppose we all thought that civilization, manners, and decorum would disappear forever from that
DISCLAIMER
Clearly this Blog – the “virtual” 340 Club – is now just as out of control as the “actual” 340 Club
JULY,4th,'83
This faded archive reads;
Actor being resident/person in control of property. Did have a party w/loud music and loud people. This constituted a noise disturbance which extended more than two property lines.- On complaint/condition observed by Off's. Actor advised prior.
Apparently some neighbors,probably non-Americans, must have called the police. Some of Lancaster's Finest then appeared at the Club and told us to tone it down. Well of course we did,for a few minutes anyway. The party continued.
The next thing I remember, an employee of Zangari's South's kitchen,named Scott,came up to my bedroom and woke me up. It was about 6:00 AM or whenever the sun rose that day. He said there was a policeman at the door and he wanted to see me. I hastily stumbled out of bed,probably already dressed and went downstairs. The front door was blocked by the Mighty 340 Juke Box hanging out on the stoop,laying on its side with the music blasting full force. I hurdled over it to greet the officer but I could not hear what he was saying due to the music. I clumsily endeavored to find the volume control but to no avail, either the machine didn't function well on its side or my blurry eyes couldn't focus on it so I went back inside and pulled the plug.
The Officer said we had been warned before and now we were being charged with a Noise Ordinance Violation. There was no valid reason to argue with the Juke Box being outside the Club and playing at full throttle. I signed for the citation. Tee I believe was in Pittsburgh that weekend and I could not disagree when he said the fine was my responsibilty since he wasn't there. I think it was $35.
The Cult of Bachelorhood
Some years later in the late 70's when I lived out in the country outside Mount Joy, after finding my belongings out on the porch one summer, another divorcee took me in for a couple months out in Penryn, only to realize he preferred the solitary life and so suggested I find another place to "winter". Then, just in the nick of time, Mr. Tim (Getzloff) announced that the former Occupant of the second floor, first room on the right, had stripped a gear and his room was now vacant. In moved DaveP for the winter. It is because I only stayed there for a season that many 340 Club alum don't recognize my name.
This short stay at the Club nevertheless scorched several memories on my brain"
1) The still smoldering matress in the alley below my room when I moved in.
2) A Christmas sleep-over with my 3-year old daughter Ligeia, while a holiday party ensued below.
3) The introduction to the scary side of urban bachelor culture to well-bred young ladies.
4) The always occupied ,first floor, front room, which served as TV and living room.
5) The darkest, most toxic kitchen I've ever seen.
6) A total absence of memory of the bathroom.
7) The sound of Tee making "gaming noises" hour after hour in the top floor headquarters.
After leaving The 340 Club in the Spring, I found other digs out in the northern Lancaster County countryside and lived there for about 10-12 years, serving once a gain as a refuge for another host of buddies. Many close calls, but "trouble" was avoided. Looking back on it now, I'm still amazed.
Today, decades and several lives later, I'm back living in rural Lancaster County, finally happily married and still teaching English after almost 40 years. But, every time I drive down West King into the city, I make a silent, mental genuflection---Eyes, right! But, dare I look? Is it still there? Does it look the same? What ghosts haunt those rooms? Is the kitchen still toxic? When I take friends and family on driving-around tours of Lancaster, I think that 340 must strike them most, give them pause. What they think I cannot say. But, I never leave out this drive-by.
Many people see adult bachelorhood as arrested development, an extended adolescence, a self-indulgence, a failure of sorts, or worse. (I remember when the nuns called it a "vocation". What ever happened to that view? Do nuns still say that?) But, call it what you want. A cult, an aternative lifestyle, men-in-groups, am unconscious choice, a state of mind, Hotel California. No, it's not always depraved or not always ennnobling; it's almost always a bit of both.
Zappa said that nostalgia is a waste of the mind, but I think he just didn't live long enough to realize that it isn't.
The Last Pile (ver 1.1)
When my mother died on August 29, 1989 I was living with Phil. I was 38 and had lived in the Delta House since leaving home in September 1974. I did it backwards; I graduated from college and then moved into the frat house. Whether the address was 328 or 340 West King Street, 72 Howard Avenue (the Outpost of Humanity), briefly back home, back to 340 and 338 West King Street, and finally, surprisingly the longest consistent address, 48 Seymour Street, directly connected to a tavern, with my consummate roomie, Phil. The total was 15 years of sleep deprivation, fast foods, pretty ladies, cold pizza, beer, rock ‘n roll, little if any responsibility, chasing both the dream and the nightmare. Suddenly, with two phone calls my life changed forever. My sister called me one morning at work to tell me my mom had suffered a fatal heart attack in Pittsburgh while visiting her sister, my Aunt. An ex-girl friend called the following week to let me know that she was pregnant with my child. It was time to leave the frat house.
I was alive; I had not overdosed, nor died in a fiery crash, nor lost my job, nor had my body betrayed me (yet), no warrants had been served on me, I beat my DUI (after all, I was an innocent man), I had avoided the altar despite knowing more than a few well qualified young ladies. All of these happy circumstances were but for the grace of God or fate and most certainly not due to any personal course of action. However, there are two specific escapes of which I am more grateful for than others – I never became a smoker. Clearly I had demonstrated myself as a weak glutton who followed his desires more than common sense or duty. I probably lit less than a dozen cigarettes in those years and never finished a single one of them. Given that both parents and my only sibling smoked like chimneys (Lucky Strikes in my parent’s case) I thank the Lord daily for this happenstance. The other habit that gratefully I never took up was recreational drugs. I truly remember buying a young woman a dime bag in the early 70s for her birthday but have absolutely no recollection of ever purchasing so much as a single narcotic pill or tab after that gift. Consequently, when the mad days on West King Street were in full effect I was usually oblivious to drug use and in my own beer induced stupor. Having said that, I never turned down a joint, a hit, a pill or a line. My participation was limited by the code of the lost boys that every now and then it was your turn to buy, share or chip in.
That having been said I present my version of The Last Pile:
Late one, Friday (or Saturday), at Zangari South (after the 340 daze, likely around 1986) probably just before 1:00 a.m. I was drinking my Pabst at the bar with Coach, and other 340 Clubbers, street hockey players, b-girls, and junkies. Typically, I’d be drinking beer as if prohibition started the next day with an eye on the door desiring #134 to walk through the door. Coach, meanwhile, would be sitting there likely down the bar after having taken a berating from me for his far left politics. Others, Jeff Hull, the Future’s Bright would be down at the other end of the bar having taken a similar berating for their right wing views. I did a lot of berating and another thing that I escaped during my tenure in the Animal House was a good ass whipping. Lord knows, I deserved a few but I digress. Coach, by his own admission, was in possession of an 8-ball, was desperately looking for a place to party in private. Now, I must interject the bartender into the picture – Phil. Unlike my stance which was my drug of choice was the nectar of the Gods; Phil had evolved into pretty much an anti-drug stance based in part on some very negative familial experience. If Coach waited till the bar closed he knew that my roomie, the bartender, and my roommate (i.e. the homeowner’s son), would frown upon someone laying out lines in his home. So, Coach asked me if I wanted to go next door (to my & Phil’s house) and party. [NOTE: Coach tells it that I invited him over to watch a movie. Obviously, one of us is wrong... That’s why this is my version.] I saw the situation for what it was and grabbed a six pack and Coach & I went to my home which was next door and, contrary to PLCB regulations, could be accessed through the interior of the bar.
As coach states, he “thought this would also be a great place to get away from a few of my eager friends who wanted to party and with my party goods. I (Coach) just got an eight ball which usually last me to early dawn … I dumped the eight ball onto the mirror which was about 5 or 6 inches in length and laid out two lines the length of the mirror.” Here is where Coach and I again differ. In my mind at this point he did one of the lines, offered me the other, left the mirror and went to the bathroom. I simply took him up on the invitation and inhaled one of the lines on the reflecting surface. I then grabbed a Pabst and returned my attention to the “movie.” Meanwhile, coach comes bouncing down the stairs vibrant and ready to go and sits down in front of the mirror. Again, I turn the story back to Coach: “I looked at the mirror and saw only the one line left! Tee did the entire pile i.e. the eight ball! I glared at Tee and said, WTF?” I looked at Coach, not realizing what I had done, and said: “what’s wrong Coach, you told me to do a line”? I had mistakenly scarfed up poor Coach’s supplies for the night in one breath. Until reading Coach’s description I never fully grasped his lack of belief in my version. It was simply a mistake, quite hilarious to me and to Phil whenever he found out about it.
Coach and I both concur that he didn’t stick around “movie” or not. Phil came home at 2 and we likely had a couple of beers and called it a night. For obvious reasons Coach never turned me on again.
There, but for the grace of God …
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
The last Pile
The 3rd Day of 340
Soon it was back to three when Jimmy moved on with his girlfriend if my memory is working. If you were on West King Street from 1974-84, on an average day 2.64 of the three of us where there. I'm a numbers man I can't help it.
Throughout 1976, the Bicentennial, it was the three of us and it was an eventful year full of common interests and events - Olympics, All-Star, APBA Convention, Lenny Lane, a Presidential election, as well as the Bi-Centennial itself.
We expanded back to 4 in January when Chris Joyce moved in. Chris' tenure began a wild period - not blaming Chris just describing the atmosphere - at the 340 Club. Chris was there for a single semester but clearly his impact is still felt.
Tim Getzloff, a 328 Club veteran, returned in May 1977 paving the way for the Club, after Chris departure, to take in a marriage refugee Dave Petkosh that October. Mr. Petkosh, a school teacher and young parent (albeit older than Phil who became the second oldest in 340 history), moved into 340 seeking respit and, I like to think, found some during his short stay. He was gone in early 1978. Presently, Dave is feverishly trying, even as I type, to master the Blogger technology ladder in order to post. It will be worth the wait.
Dave's departure, perhaps a testimony to his rationality, once again put some strain on the household. The next two guys in knew no boundaries. Up till now, with arguably an exception or two, the residents of 340 were largely a sanctuary for middle/upper middle class, Catholic, college or some college, beer swillers, just finding their footing with that other gender type of guys. Enter a pair of Crazees - first Mitch Herr; followed closely by the late Gilt. According to my records/memory, Kenny's entrance was the last straw for Sil. It was nothing personal between them; the madness was simply too much. I certainly couldn't handle Mitch & Kenny but my reaction was not to abandon ship but rather to push the pedal. So Sil was not dealing with those two crazies but three. Phil usually a rock of stability also couldn't help being drug along with the vibrations coming from the adjacent rooms. It was now when the landlord finally had enough and issued a few pontificating epistles.
Kenny fouled out after just a couple of months. He remained an active member of course but no longer occupied a bed or had to feel guilty about not paying rent. Mitch, also committed his 5th foul as reported by Phil earlier in this Blog. Both of them were gone by autumn.
In between there departures I was gone ... as a firt time homeowner on the fault line between the Bloody 7th and the Gentry. A fault line that has not moved a whit in the thirty years since my move. Jimmy Shay was my first roomie. The amazing Ron Botzum next; and the randallion cat, the lizard king, the one and only Randy Brown was my next roommate in a small, 1 1/2 story home, that became known as The Outpost of Humanity.
That left Tim & Phil. A friend of mine and street hockey teammate of Phil's Dean Staherski signed on the Titanic for the maiden voyage but ... it was interrupted. As Phil has reported earlier; first Tim, then Dean and finally Phil - the Birdman of 340 - had to leave the trash and varmint friendly 340. Before '78 came to an end, Mr. Kratzert was looking for new tenants and West King Street was devoid of us for the first time in over four years.
Poet Laureate
This poem purports to have been written around Phil’s birthday (“it was Kookie’s birthday”) and given that Chris’ principal time at 340 was 1977; I place the evening described as July 7, 1977. I believe Sil was the sober Mexican peasant. Mitch was Mitch. I am the Walrus and apparently I musta wormed. I believe this was the evening that I wore a Dashiki and, for some reason, destroyed it on the dance floor. In any case, I present the following poem from the Poet Laureate of the 340 Club:
B.P. – “the cheapest way to get your motor running”
By Christopher E. Joyce
Last week there came to town an event,
Called the Bonnie Parker Band,
They came and put upon all
The spell of Rock’s command.
Sweet Bonnie is all rocks queen glitter
She’d scream and jump and shout.
And make you listen to her songs
And get your ya ya’s out.
The music was that of precision so
Crisp and loud and clear.
And I felt no alcohol confusion
Drinking water instead of beer
Mitch was drunk and it was Kookie’s
Birthday the atmosphere was pleasant
And in the midst of all this mania
Danced a sober Mexican peasant
When Bonnie’s old and out of rock
When her instruments all rust,
She’ll remember of all things that night,
She danced with the walrus
Everyone who was there would gladly
go back for more.
Rumor has it in
That there’s a lady ashore.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Where Are They Know: Batman & Robin
You are looking at structures directly across from the 328 Club. On the left is Gary's Pro Shop, 331 West King Street. If you need golf bags, clubs, balls or even instruction; that would be the place to go. Bowling stuff also. I suspect pool cues and the like. Gary loved us. He never said much but he loved us nonetheless. to the right of 331 is a duplex 329-327. I never really knew much about 327. An old gentlemanly guy named Alfred lived there. Quiet. Kept to himself, a butler type. However, as nondescript as 329 looked, and it was nodescripter then than now, behind that door lie the Bat Cave. Of course, it was the lair of a pair known as Batman (real name unknown, could of been Bruce Wayne but I really don't know. We called him Butch when he was not scampering across roof tops making West King Street safe for democracy) and Robin (Wes Blessing, contrary to what you thought you knew in those old DC comix). I think Wes was a Vietnam vet. Both of them had left over half of their brain cells at previous addresses so they fit right in. They rocked. They were fixtures on their porch. Drinking and trying to score some contraband. On a good night they came to the 340 and graced us with their presence.I looked up Wes Blessing in the Lancaster phone book. A nice young lady answered and said I had the wrong number. I didn't disturb her world any more than that. IF ANYONE KNOWS THE WHEREABOUTS OF BATMAN & ROBIN. BUTCH & WES. PLEASE BRING THEM TO THE KNIGHTS ON JUNE 7TH.
The 2nd Day of 340
Home, for rent
I called the landlord, G.H. Kratzert, the very next day and the rest, as they say, was history. City L went his own way but later returned to the most sought after address in Lancaster. Sil & I were joined by Jimmy Shay, a paver with Sil and the three of us continued the noble experience in habitation that would take the name of the new address.
Monday, May 26, 2008
Where Are They Now: Kenny
Kenny is in the next stage. Whether he is enjoying his eternal reward or a two year old repeating Earth 201 I dunno. Clearly he is in the next stage. Hopefully he is aware of us and the reunion but more likely we are of little consequence.His departure from this world was premature and self induced. He is pictured here with Coach in happier times.
Curator's Corner
This is the 38 from 338 which was removed by me upon the final evacuation from West King Street in June 1984. Not sure if I lost the other three ... I think I might have either broke it or failed to remove it from the door.
It will be part of the archival exhibit at the reunion on June 7th.
Remember When
As most people know I always wear some type of cap, mostly to protect me from the elements or more correctly to hide the fact that I have lost most of my hair. This is proof that I was not always afflicted with male pattern baldness as the pic below depicts a full head of hair although signs of a receeding hairline can be seen.
The young camp attendee is Nathan Pease,fraternal twin of Jeremy, these two were my favorites during that summer. Notice the Peace Button on my shirt, I guess I wasn't always a Conservative Republican. My "charges" were an all male group of 5 and 6 year old kids. Keeping them occupied during the dog days of summer was quite a chore. Once I decided to have a scavenger hunt so I made list of things I wanted the kids to collect the night before work. When I presented the papers the next day I was informed,to my chagrin, by one of them. "We can't read yet", so I had to hastily draw the appropiate objects.
We had field trips to both the Philly Zoo and Hershey Park and after a series of lectures by my superiors on keeping the kids from being separated from the group, I borrowed my mother's clothes line and made a series of knots,spaced apart, and made each child grab hold of one with me in the lead and my Junior Counselor at the rear.
We didn't lose a kid unlike my fellow counselors who had older child groups.
This age of innocence picture precedes the West King Street days by only a few years.
I love LA, I love LA
I only remember certain events so if you’re looking for an orderly, coherent story, well, skip to another blog. I remember as we headed into the big apple, Tee asking the sister he brought to appease him and/or all of us (I’m not sure). I remember her saying no, and the next that I recall, Tee kicked her out of the van on 42nd street (where else!). Kenny stops in middle of the city at a red light, stands outside the van near the pedestrian crossing and pees. I don’t recall anyone even caring that walked by, hey, its NY.
We arrive at the CBGB’s which I hadn’t visited for about a year and walking in I noticed a few changes. On the left side of the entrance were the tables and most at the tables were gay, smoking the herb and no one was drinking. On the right side was the bar, and I noticed we could have our choice of seats, there was no one at the bar nor did I see anyone in the club drinking!. We sat down at the bar but there was no bartender for about 15 minutes. During our wait, a huge bull dyke covered with black leather and spikes coming out of every joint of her body walked up to Kenny and wanted to take him outside and beat the crap out of him! Kenny laughed and refused but she continued to harass him until she got bored.
After a few drinks, Phil asked me to escort him to the bathroom, which was down stairs. We walked past the small “stage” or platform, and went down this corridor which consisted of several small rooms with torn curtains and a broken chair in each room. Each room was occupied and each person had a belt or strap around their arm as they prepared for their next fix. As you go down the stairs, you notice there are two bathrooms of which both doors were broken off their hinges and lying on the floor. It didn’t seem to matter which room to use, but Phil selected the “men’s” room, I guess as I didn’t see a sign. Phil didn’t make it to the urinal before a tall, thin long hair young man started rapping to Phil with more then a casual friendliness and interest and saying hey ho, let’s go! Ok he didn’t say that but it was…Joey Ramone and I swear he was hitting on Phil! I laughed as Phil seemed to move a lot quicker heading up the stairs and back to the bar.
Finally I noticed Bonnie Parker walking toward us but didn’t seem as if she recognized us. Since we came to see her, and we were all avid fans of the band, I expected a better reception. After all she party at the 340 and we knew her for several years. As she approached us, I noticed she seemed to be more zoned out then normal, in fact, she didn’t know who we were at first when we said hi to her. I guess she may have been coming from one of the smaller rooms in the back!
I guess they played well, I don’t remember as I was kinda zoned out and only remember we were headed down the middle of the street for Mc Donald’s around 3am and Phil was singing, yes singing, and LOUDLY, the song “I love LA”. When I told him we may get killed singing that in NY, I and noted I was not packing a heater. Phil swore at me and said that he couldn’t believe that I would come to NY without proper protection.
I recall a minor disagreement over sleeping arrangements inside the van, but I was too wasted to remember or care at that time. Perhaps, one of you can add what the tiff was about. I know Tee either left the van or Phil threw him out!
Around 5am, we woke as there was a lot of noise around the van. I think they were either going to tow the van away since we parked in a no parking zone or maybe it was the garbage truck trying to dump us in. We took off trying to find our way back to the ferry. I remember later, we were in this line of traffic and not moving for some time. Phil saw a guy walking by the van and asked the New Yorker for “directions”. Phil said do you know what road we get on to get to the ferry? In a typical New York congenial response, he said; your in the line for the ferry, you fking asehole! I love NY….
12 Days of 340
Where are they now: Jose
Last time I saw him he had settled into family life with a career and all. I'd love to find him over the next 12 days.
Meanwhile, readers, lurkers, posters and 340 Club members - 1) if you have a suggestion for a Where Are They Now post (or anything else for that matter) please send a comment to the blog or an e-mail to me or Phil., and; 2) if you see Jose please let him know about the bash.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Trivia: 100-103
THIS WEEK'S QUESTIONS:
100) What was the name of City L’s (and my) friend who used to work with him at K & W Tire Company?
101) What fire company did Kenny Giltner used to hang out at before finding it more fun at the 340 Club?
102) In what fashion did Kenny sit down on a couch? CLUE: it is a four letter word
103) At what bar did I have a short-lived stint as a bartender in the 328 Club days?
Last Week’s Questions:
97) How many West King Street "residents" tended bar at Zangari's South? 4 or 5 (Phil, Sil, Dan, Dean and, perhaps, an occasional guest appearance by R.E.)
98) At 340 II what type of sports equipment was permanently set up in the dining room? a ping pong table
99) What 340 member had the sobriquet of "Wong Lee”? Steve Graybill